


ache

by blackcoffeeandblacktea



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band), Panic! at the Disco, Waterparks (Band), Young Veins
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anorexia, Band Fic, Beautiful, Bulimia, Dark, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Inpatient, Inspired by Poetry, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Multi, Poetry, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Destruction, Tour Bus, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandblacktea/pseuds/blackcoffeeandblacktea
Summary: the Palaye Royale fic of your dreams."one day, you will ache like i ache."





	1. emerson

Emerson stood on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea.   
“What if we jumped?” Remington said, standing next to him, his black tattoos making his pale skin glow in the moonlight.  
Emerson looked over at him but Remington had already moved on to some more interesting thought, his eyes squinted and Emerson could almost hear his thoughts bouncing around in that brain of his with no order or sense of direction.  
“Let’s go rob a store or something.” Remington said, closing his eyes as the idea came to him then grinning and grabbing Emerson’s hand.  
Emerson didn’t complain.  
They ran through the night-washed streets.   
Laughing at the colour of their hair in the flickering fluorescent lights of rundown strip club signs.  
Remington slid a bottle of whiskey under his heavy leather coat as Emerson twirled his translucent scarf and flirted shamelessly with the middle-aged gas station owner.  
They broke into a jog as they left the brightly lit store.  
Remington whooping and yelling nonsense   
into the freezing wind as Emerson stumbled after him.  
The shouts of glee soon turned into curses at whatever God there was.  
And Remington’s cry of “Where were you?  
Where were you?”  
Echoed in Emerson’s ears as they staggered onto the bus while they passed the cold bottle between them.  
His fingertips and lips felt cold and numb but at least his chest was warm for once.  
They were greeted by Sebastian’s hushed scolding.  
“It’s 4 am, you bastards! Where in fucking hell have you been? He whisper shouted at them over the sleeping form of their new bassist.  
“Oh...out. You know…” Remington said, clapping a hand on his older brother’s shoulder and sidling past him to climb up to his squeaky bunk.  
“Fucker…” Sebastian mumbled but gave up on getting anything out of him and turned to his younger brother instead.  
But Emerson could tune out God himself if he wanted to and Sebastian quickly realized his cause was lost, at least for now.  
“You shouldn’t even be drinking!” he said snatching the bottle out of Emerson’s stick-like fingers. “You’re only twenty, and we’re still in the states.”  
“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” Emerson sneered, drifting past his older brother to collapse on his overly decorated bunk. “Call the police? Risk them finding your precious coke? Your mistress heroin? Your one true love crystal fucking meth?” he whispered dramatically, flinging his draped arms wildly around his head.  
“Shut up.” Sebastian said between gritted teeth. “Go to sleep. We’re having a serious talk tomorrow.”   
“Yeah sure Mom whatever you say.” Remington mumbled and Emerson burst into laughter and Sebastian found that once again, his warnings would fall on deaf ears.


	2. sebastian

Sebastian woke late the next morning, clutching an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels...waiit. What? He didn’t have a hangover.  
How did this get here? It wasn’t his.  
Soft voices floated down from the front of the bus...Rem and Emerson...last night…  
It all flooded back to him.  
He was going to murder those scrawny fuckers.  
He got up and slid open the room divider to find them sitting at the tiny fold-out table. Their skeleton hands were curled around the darkest mugs of coffee he had ever seen.  
“Morning Seb.” Remington said as he began to fidget with one of the many yellow splenda wrappers that littered the table. They looked like little flower petals.  
Sebastian took note of the shakiness his brother’s normally solid voice held as well as the red sores that adorned both their knuckles, the dark circles haloing Emerson’s unfocused gaze, and the gauntness that filtered both their faces into haunting ghosts of their former selves.  
He took a deep breath.   
He would save the yelling and parenting for another day.  
These flower petal boys looked like they couldn’t handle even the gentlest of winds right now.


	3. remington

When he breathed in, it was like he could feel the cold morning air brush against his bones. He inhaled deeply and smiled triumphantly. They were doing a show in Canada today, Seb’s favourite place to perform. The trees were greener here and the sky was as pale as his and Emerson’s hands and faces, the only parts of their skin showing. Seb had always leaned towards the tanner side, no one knew why.  
Remington only looked up from his laptop when the chill coming from the open window became unbearable. Emerson was sitting at the little fold out table they had shared coffee at earlier that morning, his forehead was pressed against the closed side of the window, eyes shut in the breeze.  
Sometimes Remington felt awful, dragging his baby brother into his messed up lifestyle, but in truth, Emerson had always been more messed up than him.  
Remngton sometimes joked that Emerson was one of Death’s angels.   
He was too lovely to be human. With carefully sculpted cheekbones, dainty wrists and gently curling hair.   
Too dark to belong with any inhabitant of heaven though. His darkly shadowed eyelids, rough deep voice and fascination with the kinds of things people ought not to be fascinated with. No, he was definetly out of the running as one of God’s chosen.   
Yet his soul did not belong to the devil either.. .  
His slightly offset smile, twinkiling eyes and childlike wonder with the world around him would have made hell freeze over.

If he was anything, Emerson Barrett was the angel you saw before your last breath.


	4. emerson

Emerson sat gazing out of the slightly blurry and dirty bus window onto the gray expansive nothingness of whatever god-forsaken  
stretch of land they were hurtling themselves across  
His eyes caught little snippets of deeper meaning in the lifeless countryside every now and then.  
An abandoned fruit stand.  
A Christmas tree lot, out of season.  
A lonely house up in the hills with no path leading up to it.  
But most haunting of all were the signs and painted trucks placed and parked where they could not be overlooked, screaming  
GOD IS REAL REPENT AND YOU WILL BE SAVED.  
Where was God?  
Out of the three brothers, Emerson had always been rooted the most deeply in religion and philosophy. They weren’t raised very  
religious, their mom was a self proclaimed Christian but they had never been to church. So Emerson was still trying to find  
something to believe in.  
He had gone through a long stretch of atheism, dabbled in a few simple wiccan practices, tiptoed around the church pews of  
Catholicism and nearly lost his mind trying to wrap it around Hinduism.  
But most recently, he had finally found something that made sense.  
He discovered the less he consumed, the clearer his mind was, the calmer his soul felt.  
The game became addictive.  
He could go only hours without eating at first, then he worked his way up to a day, then a few days and even a week.  
He could feel it sharpening his body as well as his mind.  
The baby fat that had once clung to his rosy cheeks in the earlier days of Kropp Circle was gone.  
He was becoming a chiseled marble statue, finally one with the art he so dearly worshipped, and he had no complaints


End file.
